


Love is Murder

by Starlit_Lullabies



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 16:17:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17247404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starlit_Lullabies/pseuds/Starlit_Lullabies
Summary: Oh gods he knew, may the nine divine spare her.May her unholy matron shroud her in darkness,and Sithus take her soul to the void where she couldcurl up in his unending cool comfort.He knew, oh gods he knew.





	Love is Murder

His fingers, rough... calloused, grabbed at the small charm that hung now on her chest. Usually it was tucked away, the leather strap which it clung to carefully pushed to lay between her breasts. Now it had found it's way free and caught the eye of her companion. Most would think of him as an empty-minded meathead, but she knew better. She knew there was a unique form of intelligence he had been gifted, a strange sort of philosophical wisdom. Her breath balled up inside her chest and hid there as she recognized the look in his eyes. He knew. 

Oh gods he knew, may the nine divine spare her.

May her unholy matron shroud her in darkness,  
and Sithus take her soul to the void where she could  
curl up in his unending cool comfort.

He knew, oh gods he knew.

"The dark brotherhood." It was not a question, but a statement. He palmed the small pendent in his hand, looking over the cold silver and black hand print carefully carved and painted. "I thought it only to be a legend... is that where you are always sneaking off too?" Accusation, it hung heavily off of his words. Fran thought they may weigh her down and crush her like a hundred stones. The Breton wished to step away, to pull in upon herself like she were collapsing. There was no shame of her family in her heart, but she feared what he may think. 

Foolish had she been to allow him to steal his way into her heart. She should of promised it to Veezera, or Nazir.... anybody in her family. Somebody who would understand, somebody who would not fear her or chase her away in anger.

"We may as well be," like the cold water of the northern oceans. Fran forced herself to meet the Nords eyes, staring into the clear blues. She willed her breath steady and strong, took note of where her dagger lay upon her hip. To feel the warmth of his blood wash over her fingers was something she did not wish, but if need be she would damn his soul to the void. "Doesn't matter though, I am loyal to the stormcloak cause. Nothing more should worry you."

"Worry me?" Ralof sputtered as if she had hit him in his chest. "Worry me!" His voice rose now in exasperated anger. He clutched onto the pendent now, pulling it closer to him to use the leather cord wrapped around her neck like a leash. Tugging the much smaller woman to him so her chest nearly hit his, staring down on her. Ralof did not speak, only hissed through his teeth.

"Do not tell me when and when not to worry girl! A cult of murderers, you are a member of a cult of murderers!" The scent of mead washed over her. She stopped to wonder how fresh the scent was, had he been drinking at the Inn this morning before they'd set out? 

"Cult?" She whispered the word as if foreign. 

"By Talos, yes a cult!" He snarled it out as if the word tasted like rotten meat in his mouth. "Now tell me Fran, since when."

She blinked up at him, her name so strange in his voice. There were no little nicknames here. Little dragon, that is what he always called her. Teasingly, and full of affection, adoration. There was none to be found in his voice, in his eyes. She placed her much smaller hands on his, tugging at his fingers to free her pendent. The gift given to her by Astrid on the day of her arrival. It only caused him to grip tighter. 

Panic rose in her chest once more. She took a deep breath, allowed it to shudder out between her teeth. Sharp blue eyes, glassy and full of tears, looked up at him. They caught his own soft blues, meeting his rising anger with fear. It caught him off guard. It was all she had needed. 

Suddenly her dagger was dug into his thigh. His grip released on her necklace just as his lips released a howl of pain. Ralof fell to his knee, clutching his thigh with one hand and the ground with the other. Fran danced outside of his reach, looking down at him with pity and emptiness. Her facade fading as quickly as it arrived. 

Ralof looked up at her with anger and confusion, she could see the millions of thoughts swirling in his mind spill over his expressions. Fran instead inspected her now blood stained fingers with exaggerated curiosity. "I am loyal to the stormcloak cause... nothing else matters to you." She carefully punctuated her words, turning them into an order. "Do not breath a word of this to anybody. If you do I promise my family will hunt you down and kill you and them... and I promise there is nothing I could do to stop them from doing so."

"Littl- Fran," He huffed. "Little dragon." She turned to walk away from him, blinking rapidly to will away the true tears forming now. Behind her she tossed a roll of bandages from her bag, then left him.


End file.
